The Year's at the Spring 1920

Editor: This is Harry Clarke's "The Year's at the Spring," created around 1920. It's an ink drawing, isn’t it? There's something dramatic and almost ominous about the silhouetted ship against that radiating sky. What strikes you about this piece? Curator: Ominous is a great word for it. It also reminds me of a stage set. A theatrical production just waiting to begin. I wonder, what do you make of the lines shooting out from the horizon? Like rays of hope, or something more…intense? Editor: I guess I assumed it was light, sunrise maybe, but you’re right, there's something aggressive about how stark they are. It's not a gentle dawn. Curator: Exactly! And Clarke, what a master of mood. The clouds feel like they’re pressing down on the ship, almost suffocating it, and yet the ship, in turn, it cuts right through that noise, yes? Do you find that the line work helps you perceive different details throughout this landscape? Editor: Yes, I see that. All the detail is in those sharp lines, defining the ship and clouds. Without them, it would just be a black mass against a white background. It’s so striking. Curator: Indeed. The contrast elevates a relatively straightforward drawing into something much more complex and memorable. It’s like a symbol. I read that many critics argue that his best works exist on the precipice of madness. What are your thoughts? Editor: Madness! That gives the artwork an extra sense of doom. The single ship sailing the seas on the verge of hysteria and chaos. Curator: I think that’s the power of Clarke. To tap into something unsettling, a touch of madness maybe, and to render it with such precision. I certainly have an altered understanding of Harry Clarke. Editor: Absolutely. It makes you see that what looks like radiant hope from afar may actually represent approaching mania and doom. I hadn’t seen that darkness at first.